


The day I woke up as an elf

by Caritas_Lavellan



Series: Lines to a Bad Wolf [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Humor, Poetry, Wolferel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caritas_Lavellan/pseuds/Caritas_Lavellan
Summary: Because sometimes we all get a little too obsessed.





	The day I woke up as an elf

The night before, I’d been up late:  
Working those wretched rituals  
In the Temple of Mythal;  
Drinking the last glass of Merlot;  
Crying over Crestwood –  
_ar lasa mala revas_  
for the fortieth time.

Addiction is an ugly word.  
You are so beautiful.

54:17 in the FULL Solas Romance Story Dragon Age Inquisition,  
307,270 views – he lied:  
I was never unique.  
The music spoiled the other romances too.

I wasn’t, though: beautiful, that is.  
Addicted… well, you’d be the judge of that.  
Grandmotherly, with wrinkles instead of vallaslin.  
If only, I thought, he could remove those too.

_I know a spell._

Instead, I tried new moisturiser.  
Too late to get an early night, why not?  
All over the face  
Behind the ears  
Round the neck I’d never liked.  
Carefully under the red-rimmed eyes.  
Pretending the Merlot lipstick  
Wasn’t a shade too dark for my age.

Imagine, I thought, drunk on Solas,  
I had the spirit of a Dalish elf –  
If not the skinny body or the thigh gap.  
Beauty on the inside.  
He doesn’t care  
If you have red or blond or grey or no hair.  
Solas Greatly Approves  
All elven females.

Provided they do what he wants, of course.

It doesn’t matter to him  
If you spent half a day creating  
The perfect nose, or jawline:  
He’ll leave you anyway.

And so I went, to have him haunt my dreams  
From an endless distance.

Next day, the pillow  
Had a strange absence of residue.

I touched my skin.  
It didn’t feel any different.  
_Oh well_ , I thought.  
At £7.99  
I was hardly expecting emulsion of silverite and elfroot.  
Sitting up in bed,  
I brushed my hair,  
Wondering how long I could keep it,  
Into my seventies.

Solas wouldn’t have cared. Not even though:  
_You work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high. I respect that._  
I don’t think he was talking about moisturiser.

So it was quite a shock  
(Phrasing it politely)  
To find my brush get stuck  
On elven ears.

The mirror on my phone  
Led nowhere  
But confirmed it.

Sharp. 

Well that’s no good –  
I’ve got clients to see  
Documentation to read  
Font War in the office!

(Would Solas have used Comic Sans? Like hell he would. I rest my case.)

The mirror in the bathroom  
Also led nowhere.  
At least I don’t have vallaslin, I thought –  
I can’t go getting facial tattoos  
At my age.

I grabbed the moisturiser  
(and for good measure, the Merlot bottle)  
And read the psychedelic label –

XR.  
Odd. I thought it had been black and white  
When I bought it.  
Supermarket value brand  
Rebelling against the rip-off merchants selling their products with a twenty-year old stripling.  
At least if it was cheap  
They didn’t advertise.

I’ll wear my hair down  
I thought  
No coiffured bun today.

The mirror in the lift at work  
Was lit so brightly I could see each wrinkle  
(Fine line)  
Age spot

But my hair looked nice.  
I smiled at my reflection,  
Thinking

Well, I’ve got a chance.  
I just have to find the right mirror  
And he’ll walk away from me  
There too.

So it was really quite infuriating  
To find him leaning over my desk  
In the rotunda.

In that same patched, long-sleeved tunic  
With the wolf jaw  
And the long bit dangling at the front

Frowning over a tome  
(Pretending the tome, the frown was real)

Before he could call me Inquisitor again,  
I made myself wake up.

  



End file.
